


Black and Purple and Red All Over

by criticalkink



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Collars, F/M, Flogging, Handcuffs, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Paddling, Photography, Rimming, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Safeword Use, Safewords, Sawhorse, St. Andrew's Cross, Strapping, Whipping, cocksucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criticalkink/pseuds/criticalkink
Summary: Marisha and Taliesin pay a visit to a BDSM dungeon named Bear's Lair.





	Black and Purple and Red All Over

**Author's Note:**

> Co-created by two Critical Role kmeme contributors.

Matt’s poring over a draft battle map when Taliesin taps at the open door.  
  
“Hmmm?” Matt looks up and then, “Oh.  _Oh_.”  
  
Taliesin’s gone all out in black on black on black. The only thing that’s not black is his purple kitty collar, and his velvety purple eyeshadow, which has a hint of a shimmer to it. His lip gloss is black, his mascara is black, and his winged eyeliner is black. His hair is still white from their video shoot; Matt’s reasonably certain he likes it that way. He’s put product in it to spike it up. There are a few buckles and zips across his clothing that are nickel-plated but, in general, Taliesin could disappear quite easily against a black background.  
  
“Holy shit. I, uh. I didn’t know you two were goth clubbing tonight.”  
  
“We’re not,” Taliesin says.  
  
“Then...”  
  
“We’re getting reacquainted with Marisha’s friend from Burning Man. Bear. Who is going to beat the hell out of my ass, if everything goes as intended.”  
  
Matt process this, then: “I am really glad this isn’t  _my_  date night.”  
  
Taliesin’s still laughing when Marisha joins him in the study doorway. “What’s so funny, kitten?” She unceremoniously yanks his collar to her and clips his leash into the O-ring, beside the bell.  
  
“Matthew’s grateful this isn’t his date night.”  
  
“I don’t doubt it.” Marisha crosses the room to kiss Matt goodbye, dragging Taliesin with her. He also kisses Matt, rough and a little breathless because Marisha’s still exerting a little pull on the collar. “We’ll be home... I’m going to go with ‘eventually’.”  
  
“Should I have anything ready here?” Matt asks. “Food, drink, really soft couch pillows?”  
  
“We have snacks and Gatorade in case, but if you think of anything else, sure.” Marisha kisses Matt again and the tugs briskly on Taliesin’s leash. “Come along, kitten. We don’t want to be late.”

It would be hard to describe Marisha as a stereotype of anything, but the way her tight leather skirt contours to the shape of her narrow thighs and pert bottom is in no way detracting from the powerful spiked heels that are a clear indicator that she is a dominant woman going into an arena that plays heavily on visual cues.  
  
However, the way she wobbles just a little bit in the doorway is rather telling of her personal brand of awkwardness.  
  
“Don’t play too hard...” Matt cautions; “I really don’t want to have to explain that emergency room visit.”  
  
Marisha shakes her head, but Taliesin perks up just a little at the thought. “I’ve never needed medical attention for sexy injury before... I’m open to checking that one off my bucket list...”  
  
“Hush, you.” Marisha shoots him a playful glare; “I do have several types of gag in my bag, I’m not above using it in the car.”  
  
There’s a moment of hesitation, Taliesin has no issue being the a sideshow considering he’s already achieved near maximum goth-ness on the Robert Smith scale of goth-hood, but he also doesn’t really like being gagged. “Point noted.”  


*

  
In the car, things are remarkably calm considering where they’re going and what they’re both pretty sure will happen there. “Are you sure you’re okay with it being public?” Taliesin asks, looking out the passenger window as they inch forward in traffic.  
  
“It’s not like  _public_  public. Bear’s studio isn’t really that big... I think last time I practiced with him there I saw  _maybe_ a dozen people.” Marisha shrugs, keeping her eyes on traffic. “I’m not the one who’s going to be naked and probably crying.”  
  
A small tremor of arousal cuts through him, and Taliesin has to swallow back an audible response. He’d been thinking about it himself since she mentioned it as an option for their next date... and in light of recent events, part of him found it just a little fitting that he be punished for his sins. They knew she’d been working with bear on technique, learning new skills that honestly Taliesin had been  _aching_  to see put in action. The fact that he’d probably have a little audience was just icing on the cake.  
  
“Are you sure you’re ready?” She asks, glancing to see him still staring out the window. “Because we don’t have to do this tonight.”  
  
“No.” He answers quickly, a hint of that tremor in his voice. “No, I’m  _definitely_  prepared for this.”  
  
“And you remember your safe word? There’s no shame in having to use it. In fact, I’m pretty sure you will need it tonight.” It’s her intention, at least, and for that matter she knows her own limits and suspects she might very well hit them well before he does.

“Yeah, I remember my safeword... does Bear do green-yellow-red, or are we just going for one word to end it all?” Taliesin looks down at his hands, not so much because he can’t look at Marisha but because he really rather likes the dark metallic purple nail wraps he’s paired with the outfit. It’s strange how makeup and other accouterments can be so feminizing on Matt, but on himself they just add to the dark look he’s working to cultivate.

“That depends on the scene and the players. What would  _you_  rather do?”

“All or nothing,” Taliesin answers without hesitation.

“I’d like the right to call the scene if I think you’re pushing yourself too far.”

“No.” Taliesin looks sidelong at Marisha. Marisha’s still watching traffic, but he can see the expression on her face and it says that his response is exactly what she expected.

“I’m your Domme.”

“And I’m saying no. It’s a two-way street; you have to trust me to know my limits.”

They pull up at a red light, and Marisha looks at Taliesin. “What if  _I_  can’t keep going, but you can?”

“Then you hand over whatever you’re using to Bear, and you let him finish me off,” Taliesin says firmly. “I get that you have limits on what you’ll do to me, and I respect that, but I want to push  _me_ , not just  _you_.”

“We could always have another session.”

“I’m sure we will. But I need this.” He doesn’t say why, and Marisha doesn’t push him. “Besides, I can’t wait to see what you’ve been learning from Bear.”

Marisha blushes prettily. “Oh, it’s not much.”

“With all due respect, sweetheart, I am a hundred percent sure that’s bullshit.”

The car slows as Marisha finds and turns down a side street. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”

Bear’s studio is at street level, with a gently sloped ramp instead of a step up into the doorway. There’s an array of small pride flags in the front window, lined up in rows that take up the lower half of the glass despite how small they are: the standard rainbow of course, but also the leather pride flag, bear pride, bi, trans, poly... the last one makes him oddly happy, even though it’s hardly surprising to see it. And those are only the ones Taliesin recognizes; there are easily a dozen more, some clearly homemade. The rest of the window is blacked out by a solid curtain and, looking carefully, he can tell it’s soundproof glass.

“This is just the office,” Marisha says. “The real rooms are in back.” She presses the buzzer, looking up at the camera and smiling. “I don’t know for sure who else is in tonight, but we have a room for ourselves. Not that it’s a big place.” There’s a soft chime and a clunk from the door, and she pushes it open. “Ready, kitten?”

Taliesin, because he is a brat, just smirks at her and steps past her into the studio’s reception area.

Everything is leather, or black, or both. There’s a display of carefully handmade harnesses and cuffs behind the quite low front desk. There’s one couch in the area but Taliesin goes straight for the front desk, because there’s someone there and now that they’re in here he’s burning to get to the fun.

He’s hauled up short when Marisha yanks on the leash. “Kneel,” she snaps. “Now.”

“Oh my, Marisha,  _who_  is this precious pet you’ve brought?” Taliesin can only hear the voice but not see the owner; it’s a feminine voice, husky, amused. “Is it who I think it is?”

“Yes.” Marisha also sounds amused. “Taliesin, darling, crawl round here and let Charlotte see how lovely you look.”

Taliesin wants to protest the crawling, both on the part of his knees and because of his carefully put together outfit, but when he gets around the desk he realizes why he’s the one moving: Charlotte’s in a wheelchair. Not that that looks like it stops her from doing anything, considering how ripped her muscles are; she’s wearing a leather vest unlaced at the front almost to her navel, and she’s looking down at him with a wide smile. Taliesin manages a smile back.

“Well, if it isn’t Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the third,” Charlotte rattles off, slower than Taliesin himself but not too damn badly, and Taliesin has to shift back on his knees so he can bring one hand up to facepalm.

“There must be a dungeon somewhere in LA that doesn’t have a Critter on staff, Marisha...”

“I like this one, and Charlotte likes obeying her NDA regarding clients.” Marisha grins. “She’ll tease you within the bounds of the studio, though. I said she could.”

“Evil,” Taliesin mutters.

“May I touch his hair?” Charlotte asks, getting a nod from Marisha before stroking her fingers through Taliesin’s short spikes. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

“I’ll bring Matt in for you to pet one day. Is Bear here?”

“Yeah, of course. He’s waiting for you two in room one. Mouse is in room two if you want to say hi, but only if the door’s open; I think she had a completely private session.” Charlotte’s eyes flit to Taliesin, who tries to stay impassive. “I saw you requested semi-private. If it’s okay I’ll probably come down for a while, if I can talk Mouse into covering up here for me.” Her smile turns to a joyous grin. “You’re so pale I bet you’ll bruise like hell.”

“Thank you.” Taliesin’s genuinely pleased by the compliment—and also wondering if he might have to borrow Charlotte’s wheelchair to get back out to the car by the time he’s covered in said bruises.

Marisha’s hand turns and shortens the leash in her hand, giving him little room to move as she walks—no, parades her pet is closer—through the small gallery. There aren’t many people milling about, but the ones there are already somewhat familiar to her limited number of trips to learn under Bear’s paw. “Head down, kitten.” She says firmly, rolling her shoulders in her lightweight white blouse, squaring them off as though she might possibly intimidate any of the others in the room.  
  
Obediently, for the most part, Taliesin lowers his head—letting his little bell jingle with every shift on his hands and knees across the immaculately clean floor. As they near a hallway, he dares to turn his head for a quick peek toward a pair of jeans sitting on a low leather sofa beside a naked woman curled at her master’s feet. Almost without it registering, Marisha’s hand jerks and pulls the thin leather strap of his collar taut against his throat. “Sorry...” he mutters under his breath, relieved when she chooses to move on as opposed to correcting him.  
  
She can’t help but wonder if Taliesin is getting in over his head; she knows he’s been around the club scene—and probably seen things well beyond her capacity, but she also knows he’s never been to a place like this before. He’s never seen how intense it can get when things start cranking up... and tonight, their little viewing room is cranked up to eleven. “Bear.” She says fondly, stopping just inside the open doorway. “Nice to see you again.”  
  
The large booming voice tickles Taliesin’s ears well before he sees thick black motorcycle boots in front of his face. “Much the same, dear heart.” He answers, a thick hand reaching down and palming the top of Taliesin’s hand, ruffling his hair without the same care Charlotte had offered. “Glad to see you’ve brought your boy. I’ve been wanting to see him strung up since Burning Man.”  
  
Taliesin swallows hard, and Marisha sees his body tense at the touch—responding with the loosening of the lead. “He wants to find his limit... and I feel a lot  _safer_  having your oversight.”  
  
Bear nods and lifts his hand away, stroking his beard as he looks over Taliesin and then back to the room. Various semi-modular furniture has been set up to be easily moved around and anchored down, all heavy-duty and well padded; a bench, a locking stockade, a table, a frame, a cross, suspension bars hanging near the ceiling—she’s pretty sure Matt would orgasm just peeking around the place and imagining the potential. “Pick your poison, lady?” Bear chuckles, the sound rumbling through them and out into the casual sitting area. “We can start somewhere more demanding and maybe move him somewhere a little easier if his knees give out before his resolve?”  
  
Taliesin sighs, then waits a beat to see if he’s noticed... thankfully, not. It’s a very real worry that his knees will give out first. He can’t actually see any of the equipment beyond black padded wood at eye level to the floor, but it doesn’t stop his imagination. He already has an idea in mind; and doesn’t mind nuzzling against Marisha’s bare leg and letting out a small mewl for attention.

“Yes, kitten?” Marisha says a little snappishly.

“ _Kitten_!” Bear booms laughter before Taliesin can say anything. “Aw, yeah, I remember he was a bit of a wildcat.” He reaches down and grabs Taliesin by the back of his coat collar, hauling him to his feet and then to his tiptoes—and even then they’re not eye to eye, more like eye to neck. “Whatcha trying to ask for, lil’ wildcat?” Taliesin can hear Marisha laughing helplessly. “Are _you_ allowed to pick, huh? Seems like a big responsibility for a kitten.”

Taliesin swallows, a difficult task between Bear having him by the scruff of the neck and Marisha’s comparatively light tug on the leash. “I do have a preference, yes, although I’m not sure that’s the same as being allowed to pick.”

“Oh my god,” Marisha says, still giggling. “Go on, then... but this is the only thing you get to pick, where we start.”

“The cross.” He says it looking defiantly up into Bear’s eyes. They’re a deep chocolate brown and dance with good humor. “And I bet I stay there longer than you expect.”

Bear grins. “How _much_ longer, wildcat?”

_Fuck_. “Ten minutes on top of whatever you think I can take.”

The floor is reassuringly solid under his feet as Bear finally sets him back down. “I got a timer round here somewhere; we can set it once you’re up there.” He whispers something to Marisha, whose eyes go wide before she nods. Shit. If whatever number Bear’s thinking of has that effect on Marisha, then what chance does Taliesin have?

All the chances in the world, he thinks, squaring his shoulders and thinking of grit points.

“Kitten.” Marisha brushes her lips against his. “You can’t be wearing clothes up there.” She lifts her hands—the end of the leash is looped around one wrist, like a bracelet with a particularly interesting charm on it—and pushes his coat back off his shoulders, catching it with one hand and draping it over the end of the table they’re standing by. Bear’s checking that the cross is secure and moving everything else out of the way of it. Now Taliesin’s on his feet he can see the array of tools and toys on display in the wall cabinets. He can’t focus on them, though, because Marisha’s kissing him lightly again and again as she slowly, delicately, divests him of his clothing. Before too long his upper body is bare save for his collar and the wrist cuff from their weekend away.

“Pants too,” Bear says cheerfully. “We’d like to be able to  _see_  the bruises on your ass.”

Taliesin, only just finding the mental space he needs to be in, hisses at him without thinking. Bear’s expression goes from jovial to thunderous in an instant, and Taliesin flinches as Marisha responds to Bear’s change of mood by slapping Taliesin across the face—hard. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s the only time she’s done it without pulling it.

“Have some respect, Taliesin. Bear doesn’t need his time wasted with your need to be rude.”

When Marisha does reach down and, one by one, work open the buttons of Taliesin’s pants, he’s half hard behind them. She strokes him with her palm and he closes his eyes and groans.

“How long do you think  _this_  will last?” she asks, easing him out of his underwear and closing her fist around him, stroking harder.

“Depends on what you do to me,” Taliesin gasps.

“What do you  _want_  me to do to you?”

Taliesin opens his eyes, meeting her gaze dead on. “Beat the shit out of me.”

Marisha smiles, and Bear lets out another thunderous peal of laughter before stepping closer, cupping his hand at the back of Taliesin’s neck with a gentle squeeze that almost makes him lose his footing again. “I like his spirit... I can see why you’re interested in breaking him.”  
  
A smile flickers across Taliesin’s lips, quickly extinguished when he hears a smaller voice in the doorway—just a giggle, but enough to remind him that they’re painfully not alone. He feels small in Bear’s shadow, and like every eye can see each imperfection peppered across his body, every roll of pudge, every pockmark and scar. And his cock stirs in rapid response to it, a flush coloring across his cheeks and chest. “Oh god...”  
  
Marisha takes charge, unclipping his leash to let it aside for safety’s sake. “Rules. Nobody touches him without permission. Only myself and Bear are allowed to hit. Safe word ends scene.”  
  
“Yes.” Bear answers, his fingers pressing a little harder against Taliesin’s strap of a collar, feeling the heat under his palm. “This could get rough...” His gaze slides down Taliesin’s exposed back, catching small lingering bruises across his ass—mostly faded fingertip marks on his hips. The sort of thing that he expected to see.  
  
For a moment, Taliesin’s feet refuse to move when he is guided toward the cross. He’s never been on one before; but he’s seen them... lusted after them. “Yes.” He echoes, the rules are exactly as they’d agreed. Barely legal, but generally agreed upon. Bear’s fingers squeeze harder and his feet engage, leading him up to wooden block step with his back toward the open door. Thick leather cuffs are wrapped around his wrist—not decorative, practical. The kind that can support his weight and then some if bound properly.  
  
“Turn him around.” Marisha instructs, and Taliesin shudders at the mere thought. “Look at me, Taliesin.”  
  
Broad, meaty hands push on his thighs and lower back. He turns toward Marisha—trying his damnedest to focus on her and no the individuals inviting themselves in to see him standing before her, nearly hard already with a blush creeping over his pale skin.  
  
“Beautiful.” Marisha smiles, seeing his eyes lock on her—the dark swipes of makeup on clarifying the resolve on his face. She picks up a leather strap nearly as thick as her hand, and then squeezes it tightly. She closes the distance between them in two long strides of her heels clicking against the floor. “Are you ready?”  
  
Unable to find words, let alone say them, Taliesin nods eagerly only to feel the hard sting of the strap against his outer thigh—a stripe of white heat flashing over his skin. “Yes!” He yelps, swallowing back further cry. “I’m ready... I’m ready Princess.”

Bear checks the cuffs at the wildcat boy’s wrists and then crouches to secure each ankle, splaying him out beautifully, before stepping back and folding his arms, leaning against the solid table. He’s looking forward to seeing his pupil demonstrate her work on someone she really cares about; she’s fond of the couple of practice bottoms, but she loves this man. He can see it in the minute hesitation after his initial yelp of pain.

But then she squares up and starts laying into Taliesin’s ass like a pro, each carefully places stroke overlapping the previous one, quickly turning his ass a bright red. Taliesin presses his face against his upper arm and his cock against the cross, and neither action goes unnoticed by Bear. He knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a good beating from a good woman, and can imagine how Marisha’s kitten is feeling.

Taliesin doesn’t have to worry too much about not attaining the right headspace for this. The first three blows are enough to smack him right into it. It’s not that the strap then stops hurting, but it’s a delicious warm hurt that suffuses his ass and thighs. He groans softly, and Marisha swings the strap lower, inward, against his inner thigh, stinging like hell.

“Doing okay?” Bear rumbles.

“Fine,” Taliesin says.

“Wasn’t asking you.”

Marisha’s not even breathing heavily. “Piece of cake,” she says, making Bear laugh again.

She hears the whish-whish of denim on denim behind her, someone’s thick thighs rubbing together as they come to stand in the doorway, and the scuffling and jingling sound of someone crawling on a leash. “Viewers welcome?” a sweetly husky voice asks.

“Yes, but no touching without permission, and no beating.” Marisha doesn’t turn around, considering her next blow and also a little worried that if she pays too much attention to her audience she’ll lose her nerve.

The stranger laughs. “Gotcha.” They sit down on the bench just inside the door, judging from the sound of denim on leather, and a soft murmur has their pet settled at their feet. Marisha hears, “I want a turn, Daddy,” and the stranger’s response of, “Greedy little girl,” before they fall respectfully silent.

The silence is all the better for her to hear the way that Taliesin’s breath quickens as she starts again with the strap. It’s so lovely and thick, but that also makes it a tool she can’t wield for as long as a lighter one. Charlotte, with her incredible upper body strength, can deal a lot more damage with it.

But that’s all right. There are tools and toys that, although lighter, can cause more pain.

A  _lot_  more.

This is just a warm up, and Taliesin is feeling the heat across his thick thighs, stripes softening his ass and sinking him a little bit deeper into the delightful high space. He breathes deeper still, taking each stroke with as much grace and dignity as a naked man can muster knowing he’s being watched—enjoyed. He’s a display piece of precise pain.  
  
It’s a lovely thought.  
  
“More.” He demands, yelping loudly when the strap catches his inner thighs one side and then the other harder than before; “Fuck!”  
  
Marisha hands off the strap to Bear—seeing his eyes light up when the large man presses the heavy flogger into her hand. If the strap was to warm him up, the flogger is to get him high. The slim pommel rests easily in her palm and she gives a test swing of the thin, knotted leather cords. She’s used it before, but never on Taliesin—as far as she knows he’s never felt a good stingy flogging.  
  
“Please don’t stop...” Taliesin whimpers, drawing in a deeper breath as he shifts uneasily on the balls of his feet. For the first time, worry nags at the back of his mind that he’s going to be left there and watched, allowed to simply wait, and it is a strange mix of arousing and terrifying. “Please.”  
  
Marisha answers with a snap of her wrist, sending the knotted cords across his upper back—letting them bounce off of his shoulders and leave little pink marks behind. Taliesin gasps, but doesn’t cry out, she sees his fingers flex and then curl desperately. Her wrist turns, catching the same area on the back swing with a little more force.

“Oh, fuck,” Taliesin breathes. He can guess what’s being used on him, the sweet kiss of the leather strands tempered by the slightly harder sting of the knots. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Marisha swings again with a laugh. “Lovely,” she echoes, meaning the fine red lines that begin to appear across Taliesin’s upper back and shoulders. As she sets a rhythm, he begins to arch into each lash, until he’s rising to meet the flogger every time it comes down. She keeps the pace steady a little longer, fascinated by how much he’s enjoying it. His face, though she can only just see it with his cheek pressed against his arm, is tranquil with pleasure.

She snaps the next lash a little harder, aiming to make the knots bite, but although Taliesin blinks at her, he doesn’t flinch.

“Like this,” Bear says, taking the flogger from her. “If I may?”

This time Taliesin inhales sharply before the lash lands, just because he knows it’s changed hands, and sure enough the blow that lands is a lot harder. That delicious stinging sensation remains, though, and he hisses at Bear, daring him.

“Brat,” Bear remarks, and he brings the flogger down three more times in quick succession. It still makes Taliesin feel high more than sore, though.

“He’s brave, Daddy,” a tiny voice comments from the floor.

“I know, sweetness, hush now.”

Marisha takes the flogger back, not quite done with it, and resumes working on Taliesin’s shoulders and upper back. Soon the fine red lines become more like welts. At one point when he arches his body she can see just how hard his cock is, and wonders whether it’s the pain or the audience or what that’s working so well on him.

Truth is, it’s both. Hearing those soft voices critiquing him—knowing that they’re watching just as eagerly as he’s receiving each delicious smack. “So good...” He groans out loud, and then bites down into his lip until he can taste the bitter copper blood. He’s not quite dizzy yet, but riding on the edge of the nice emptiness that comes with the release of pain.  
  
Her breathing comes harder with the effort, putting her back and shoulders into each hard stroke to try and mimic the loud snap of leather against skin that Bear’s superior strength had made look like child’s play. She slows, letting the leather thongs drag down his pink skin to where his ass still shows dark, angry strap marks. She sidesteps, getting a better angle, and sees Taliesin flinch as he readies for whatever will come next. “Count.” She demands with the last clatter of her high heels on the floor. Working from the side, in close, the first flick of her wrist sends the cords hard across his ass.  
  
The fresh sting on tender skin is more than enough to make him cry out. Taliesin’s cock throbs, but he manages to sob out the count as the knots dig into the raw skin. “One... Jesus fuck that’s good.”  
  
Bear’s hand rests on Marisha’s shoulder, but she shrugs him away—knowing full and well that she’s riding a very close line on skin that could easily break. His ass is resilient, though, even after a good strapping she’s fairly certain he won’t bleed.  
  
Not yet. Not before he’s closer to the edge.  
  
Forcing his eyes open, Taliesin can’t really see his audience but he can hear them—loud breaths, small gasps. He catches the metal of Charlotte’s wheelchair out of the corner of his eye and the first touch of shame washes over him. Someone who knows his name. Knows his face. And now knows what he looks like when he’s hard as rock and tipping into the floating high. His fingers curl on the padding underneath his palms, gripping the leather as tight as he can. As slow she strikes him, he counts.

Bear makes a gesture to Marisha, who only has to think a moment to nod. He leaves her swinging and fetches out the next tool. And it is a tool, not just a toy.

Taliesin counts the seventh stroke across his ass, anticipates an eighth, and opens his eyes to peer sidelong at Marisha when it doesn’t come. She’s calmly coiling the thongs of the flogger around her fingers.

“More, please,” he asks, neither demand nor plea but somewhere in between.

“You’ll get more.” Marisha comes closer, kisses his cheek, and brushes her fingertips over his cock. Taliesin whines in the back of his throat. “Maybe I should have brought Matt to clean up this mess you’re making.”

“Maybe next time,” Taliesin says boldly.

Marisha kisses him again. “Survive this time first,” she says softly.

Then she’s gone from his field of vision and Taliesin hears a slight creak as she leans against something—maybe the bench? He’s still trying to work it out when he hears a much more distinctive sound.

A single, snapping crack of a bullwhip.

“Oh, Jesus,” he whimpers, and then the second crack sounds, the lash coming in sidelong over his ass, and the hot line of stinging pain it lays down has him screaming.

“Having fun there, little wildcat?” Bear asks genially.

Taliesin pulls against the cuffs, rubs against the pad of leather at his groin, and then—Marisha can’t quite believe it—gives Bear the finger, a double bird flying above the cuffs.

“That’s a green light then,” Bear says, and he lifts the whip once again.

The room is spinning, and it’s quite possibly the most amazing sensation he’s felt in the heat of the moment. Taliesin closes his eyes when the whip cracks the air again—his body tensing and trembling for the split second it takes to lick across one bruised shoulder, drawing out another unexpected cry. This, he thinks, is going to be enough.  
  
Marisha’s eyes widen as the lash comes down artfully, one shoulder and then another laying thin red welts across his upper back. She’s barely picked up the whip herself—and wouldn’t consider using it on anyone, let alone areas where it could be really fucking dangerous—and watching Bear’s powerful body barely moving with each increasingly hard snap of the whip is near perfection. Taliesin’s body lurches with each new strip, jolting away from the padded leather and then pressing tight up against it.  
  
His knees are shaking, and Taliesin is pretty sure the cuffs and his grip on the cross are the only things actually keeping him upright. His skin burns down his shoulders and across his back—each lick a new cut into his flesh. In his mind he’s almost certain that he’s bleeding, the stripes trickling red down his skin that gets mercilessly ignored for another hot stripe.  
  
In fact, his skin weathers even the hardest crack with nothing worse than raised angry red welts that have begun to stripe his swelling flesh.  
  
“He’s intense...” Charlotte leans closer, her voice a bare whisper; “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone take Bear’s whip.”  
  
Marisha nods, stone-faced. It’s hard to watch now, even though she knows he’s not hitting his limit, he’s loving every second of it. “I... I can’t be enough for him.” It feels shameful to admit it, but the sour taste in her mouth is evidence enough; and it stings.  
  
“That’s why you’re here,” Charlotte smiles, and licks her lips—eyes darting back with the loud crack of the whip as it once more licks across the tender flesh of his ass, cutting precisely through the strap welts. “Not every scene is about breaking him. You don’t have to hurt him.”

“He loves it so much... even knowing that he does, though, doesn’t make it easy to use him as hard as he likes.” Marisha shakes her head at herself. “Not like this, anyway. There’s other stuff he loves that I’m fine with.”

“So stick with that, and let him come here when he needs it.” Charlotte points to where Taliesin’s arched away from the cross a little; there is a distinct gleam of pre-come smeared over the leather. “You can see it’s working for him.”

“He’s beautiful,” the stranger beside them comments. Between the low lighting and what Marisha thinks is a deliberately cultivated androgynous appearance, she can’t pick their gender, but to do so would be rude anyway. They have a lovely voice, not to mention a lovely pet; their babygirl is unambiguously gendered with a pink collar, leash, and hair ribbon. She looks thoroughly put out about it, too, pouting slightly when Marisha’s gaze alights on the ribbon.

“He is beautiful,” Marisha agrees belatedly, just as Bear snaps the whip across Taliesin’s upper thighs and Taliesin screams again. It’s somewhere between a pain-sound and the kind of cry he lets out when Matt’s doing something particularly interesting to him. “I’m lucky to have him.”

Taliesin can hear them talking and, though he can’t make out any words, can guess the topic of discussion. “My ears are burning,” he says through the haze of incredible sweet pain, not as loudly as he’d like.

“Smartass,” Marisha says quite clearly, and then something softer to whoever she’s sitting with now. Taliesin hears the sound of wheels and Bear lets out a low  _oof_  as he picks Charlotte up. Taliesin knows Bear has picked Charlotte up because her light fingers are the next thing to touch him, running over the weals across his upper back.

“Beautiful work,” she comments. “Excellent canvas.” She rubs her palm over Taliesin’s right shoulder, where a lot of the blows have hit hardest, and he lets out a small cry at the way it suddenly intensifies all the little stripes into one big hot pain. “I think his ass needs more bruising.”

Bear laughs as he settles Charlotte back in her chair. “Sounds fair. Sounds  _balanced_.”

“I think she’s right,” someone else says, their palm cupping Taliesin’s ass out of nowhere. Taliesin jerks in his bonds and then just about breaks his neck trying to see who it is. “The welts are gorgeous, but I see he likes purple. He should have some more.” Their hand withdraws, making Taliesin feel like he’s just been prodded like a choice cut of meat. It adds an exquisite layer of humiliation to his current predicament, and his cock throbs, caught between his body and the cross.

“Vox populi says something thuddy,” Bear says. “Your scene, Princess.”

It takes Taliesin a moment to realize he’s not only telling Marisha the next toy is her call, but putting the reins firmly back in her hands. She steps up behind him, kissing the spot between his shoulderblades.

“Enjoying yourself?” she purrs.

“So fucking much,” Taliesin answers with perfect honesty.

She smacks his ass: it’s not particularly painful but it does make a fleshy sound that the other toys and tools don’t quite manage. “Good boy.” She trails one finger up his cleft and Taliesin squirms back against her touch; it wouldn’t take much to set him off if she put anything in him. The thought of her doing so, fucking him with a dildo or paddle-handle or even just her fingers, in front of all the strangers in the room, makes him moan and press hard into the cross.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” Marisha’s hand slips between his legs, toying with his sac.

“Want you to fuck me.”

Marisha laughs. “That’s not part of the plan, sorry.” She steps back, but not so far that Taliesin can’t smell her: her usual strawberry scent replaced by some wild perfume that smells of leather and roses.

Bear’s been picking out a few options for Marisha to try next and, since she’s had a short rest, she chooses a thick paddle with a rounded head that’s encircled with dome studs. They don’t look like much of anything, but they can cause one fuck of a bruise. She hefts it, test swings it, taps it against her open palm.

“Please.” Taliesin’s voice is strained. “I need more.”

“Need, or want? There’s a big difference between the two.”

“I need it.”

“Fortunately for you, then, you’re going to get it.” Marisha takes her position, conscious of her audience—Mouse has joined the other three, and gives her a nod, no smile, a professional acknowledgement of the marks on Taliesin, and the marks yet to be made.

She swings the paddle, pulling the stroke a little. Taliesin must know, because although he yelps at the new sensation, he also gives her a tiny shake of the head. He’s choosing not to call her out on it in front of everyone. For that, she can give him what he wants. What it’s hard for her to give, but what he takes so readily—so needily.

Marisha’s next hit is not pulled, not softened, and Taliesin  _howls_. He writhes in his cuffs and Marisha brings the paddle down again before she can talk herself out of it.

“Ask for it.”

“Please!”

Marisha taps the flat of the paddle against her palm. “Please what?”

“Please, Princess... hurt me.” He rolls his eyes to look at her and she can see how far gone he is... but, she thinks, she can push him further. Deeper into the dark.

“You know I can’t.” She puts real regret into her voice, and lets him get as far as a bewildered, “Wh—” before bringing the paddle down again. “Because you won’t let yourself break, will you?” Again. She can see his shoulders shaking. “I can’t hurt you because you’re just too. Fucking. Invulnerable.” She punctuates each word with another smack, and she can see where the bruising will rise, crossed with the fine flogger and whip marks.

His body throbs, and through the dizziness he doesn’t even know that he’s shaking until Marisha’s hand clasps on his shoulder. The frustration in her words rings in his ears, and below the heavy throb of arousal and need it brings about a seed of doubt that’s whisked away when the hard nubs smack his hips. It takes a deep breath to think, to function, but he manages a weak gasp; “Yellow... yellow... fuck... knees.”  
  
“Called it.” Bear chuckles under his breath, “Let’s get you moved,  _kitten_.”  
  
Marisha takes a second to catch her breath, unable to look at their audience—she watches in silent worry as Bear unfastens the cuffs from the clips. Taliesin collapses in his arms, his body limp save for the proud rise of his cock smearing wetness over his inner thighs as Bear cradles him in both arms. “Awww, so cute...” Charlotte murmurs, several giggles rising from the gallery. Marisha can’t help but add; “He’s such a sweet bae when he’s blissed out.”  
  
Blissed out is one word for it. He looks up at Bear’s face, unable to focus on anything but the full body throbbing and the unsteady weirdness of being carried across the room with sure, steady steps. He felt... small, and it somehow made everything just a little more intense being lulled into that comfortable little boy headspace.  
  
Bear shifts Taliesin’s weight over his shoulder, a meaty hand caressing the hot welts across his ass and assessing just how tender he is. Marisha had wanted the sawhorse, seeing him bent over and exposed, but he won’t last long if that’s the only target... and something tells him they want to draw it out just a little longer despite the hard cock dripping against his bare belly. “Here, sit tight.” He mutters and unloads Taliesin onto the long padded bench to catch his breath.  
  
Taliesin can’t move, but slowly the world is coming back into focus—he can see Marisha coming to him, worry creasing her brow despite the precious smile curving her lips. “Good?” He says weakly, licking his lips.  
  
“Yes, kitten.” She answers, reaching out to stroke sweat back from his forehead through his hair. “You’re doing very good... too good.” She sighs, but leans in and kisses his shoulder.  
  
Bear slides the sawhorse out toward the edge of the room, facing it toward their gathered audience before lifting it up on a secured platform. It’s not the sort of setup he’d allow Marisha to use—she’s not even close to used to the cane, afraid of it—but for him it’ll do well enough to break even the heartiest pain doll.  
  
“Good to go?” He asks, striding back to the bench with a proud, broad step. “Or are you tapping out?”

“Not tapping out,” Taliesin says, voice just that little bit shaky. His gaze slides past Bear to the set-up Bear’s arranged: the sawhorse for exposure, with the platform for a little more height. He can imagine all too clearly how that’s going to work out for him. The paddle’s going to feel like it’s splitting him in half. Yet he’s looking forward to it, even though he feels awkward as Bear picks him back up and arranges him over the sawhorse. Ass up, wrists and ankles cuffed again to the legs of the padded contraption.

“Comfy?” Bear asks solicitously.

“Perfectly. I suppose I’ll have to wait until next time to try the stockade.”

“Noted,” Marisha says, while Bear chuckles and slaps a meaty palm against Taliesin’s ass.

“He’s got so much fight in him.” He steps away from the platform. Marisha, sitting on the edge of the bench, is just about in Taliesin’s line of sight, but she doesn’t get up, although she’s still turning the paddle over in her hands. Taliesin can hear Bear opening a cabinet, and there’s a collective  _oh_  from the audience. Taliesin can’t see Bear, can’t see what elicited the reaction.

He sure as hell feels it, though.

There’s a whistling sound and a  _crack_  and suddenly there’s a burning stripe right across his ass. Taliesin tries to bite his lip but a yelp escapes anyway. The second blow comes across his shoulders and that one makes him gasp.

“Thought this would work,” Bear says. He taps the tip of the cane on Taliesin’s ass, then between his shoulderblades. “I can reach anywhere I want from here, kitten. What do you think of that?” He strokes the cane against Taliesin’s inner thigh, right by his taut sac, for emphasis.

“I think bring it on,” Taliesin says, and Charlotte punches the air with a quiet, “Right on!”

Marisha watches anxiously from the bench as Bear begins. She knows he knows what he’s doing, but she’s not sure Taliesin really knows how much he can stand of this.

But fuck, he looks amazing. Head down, ass up, thighs spread enough that if she had her harness she could give him the fucking he’d asked for earlier. That’s not what this is about, though. This is about pain. If he comes, it’s incidental, although she’ll certainly be interested to see what tips him over the edge. The way his cock’s pressed against the horse must be uncomfortable, but as Bear contemplates his next strike, Taliesin arches his ass up as though to say  _come and get me_ , and Marisha can see that he’s still proudly hard and dripping.

The stroke comes harder than anticipated, a flash of white hot pain across his thighs right below his ass that makes him scream out loud, swearing at the tremor of pleasure that runs through him. It’s nothing like anything he’s felt before, the sting is sharp and precise that mellows into a long pulse on his skin before the next stroke comes across his upper back. If he’d been high before, he’s flying now—delirious as the thin rod barely has time to crack the air between hard snaps over his skin.  
  
Marisha watches rapt, wide-eyed and intent on Taliesin’s body. She sees every tremor, every pulse as each hard strike lands—and she can’t imagine bearing that level of pain, let alone taking the joy in it that’s clear despite Taliesin’s increasingly loud cries. In the moment, she’s glad that Matt’s not there, that she’d thought it would be best to leave him home—he would have intervened well before now, it’s hard enough for her to simply let him spin up.  
  
The whistle-crack of the cane sounds again as Bear lays a fresh stripe across his shoulders—seeing the angry red stripe spit in the thick pad of flesh where Taliesin’s neck meets his back. It’s a small break, but enough to stay his hand—his back is done, a canvas of welts that’ll be bruises later tonight. Besides, the brat has made it clear that the sting on his ass is definitely the most prized.  
  
Marisha sees him still, and then catches the sight of a thin rail of blood. On her feet in a heartbeat, she scrambles to him and holds out her hand to pause the beating. “Yellow?” She asks, crouching down in front of Taliesin, the tight skirt almost painfully squeezing her as she cups his cheek—feeling the wetness of mingled sweat and tears.  
  
“Green.” He manages between labored breaths, shaking his head hard enough that the room spins gleefully fast around him. “Please... please... so fucking close.”  
  
She looks up at Bear and catches his dark eyes waiting on her word. Torn, worried, she gives a slow nod. “Break him.”

Part of Marisha’s pre-scene discussion with Bear was about Taliesin’s safeword. He’ll stop for either _red_ or Taliesin’s character name… but not for anything else.

And she’s promised Taliesin that she won’t intervene.

So Marisha watches from her spot on the bench, sitting cross-legged but ready to jump down if she has to. The audience is all quite quiet now; Charlotte’s moved her chair to get a better view, and Mouse has come right into the room and is lounging on a padded cube that Marisha hasn’t seen in action yet—it could be for anything, but she suspects it’s mostly just a seat. The Daddy is stroking their babygirl’s hair; the babygirl is hugging her knees to her chest, watching avidly as Bear works on Taliesin.

The breaking could be fast, but Bear draws it out. His carefully measured cane strokes time with some rhythm in his own head. Marisha can hear him humming. Not for long, though, because under this relentless, patient, unavoidable pain, Taliesin begins to crack.

It starts with mostly silent tears that he tries to hold back but that wet his face along with the sweat. Then Marisha can hear him sobbing, swearing, and sees his hands curl into tight fists. He has to know his own limits.

“I can’t... oh fuck this hurts...” Taliesin’s words split the silence. “No more. No more!”

“That ain’t your safeword, boy,” Bear rumbles, whacking Taliesin briskly across the shoulders, just for a momentary change.

Marisha holds her breath. Has Taliesin forgotten? Is he that far gone?

“Oh, I know it’s not,” Taliesin says.

“Fuckin’ actors,” Bear grumbles, and Taliesin can feel that the goading has worked as Bear lays back into him. Ass, upper thighs, a few incredibly targeted blows that stop just shy of his balls.

He loses track of them. Loses track of time. Somewhere in there he stops sobbing and starts screaming. If he thought the flogger and whip were splitting his skin, then this must surely be cutting him to the bone. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears, more so because he’s head down. His ass feels flayed and yet Bear keeps hitting him with that same inexorable pace.

“Stop! Fuck!”

“Use your words, kitten,” Marisha says, and Taliesin hears her voice as if she’s miles away. “Use them if you need them.”

Words. Oh, yes. Taliesin gropes for them in his mind as Bear brings the cane whistling down across his upper thighs again, a sidearm stroke, followed by another. He writhes, trying both to pull away from and arch into the pain.

It feels like nothing else and he feels so, so alive.

The tipping point comes at last when Bear takes another sidearm swing and the tip of the cane snaps against Taliesin’s balls. This time he doesn’t scream. This time he shrieks, and just as the next blow lands in the same place, he forces out an agonized, “Percival!”

“Go on,” Bear says, tapping the tip of the cane at the soft junction where Taliesin’s ass becomes his thigh.

The rest of the name,  _his_  name, that he’s rattled off a hundred times, comes with excruciating slowness. “Fredrickstein.” He gasps a breath. Bear idly draws the cane over his skin. “Von Musel... Klossowski...” Oh, everything is a red hot haze and it hurts wonderfully and  _what the fuck is his name?_  ”de Rolo... the Third.”

There’s only a second of silence before Charlotte breaks out with a snort of laughter. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!  _That’s_  your safeword?”

Taliesin feels a rush of pure humiliation burn through his body, followed immediately by the rush of an inescapable orgasm that has him rutting hard against the sawhorse, coming in a flood of hot embarrassment and arousal.

Then, just for the capstone, he blacks out.

Marisha doesn’t hear the subdued applause and singular catcall, she’s on her feet and at his side unfastening his cuffs before she even breathes. “Tal!” She shouts, grabbing his face—following it up when Bear hefts him off the sawhorse and carries him to the table. “On his belly,” she instructs, despite the fact that Bear clearly knows what he’s doing and has no doubt been through similar situations before. “Jesus, Taliesin... come on, back with me.”  
  
“Shh...” Bear reaches out, gently patting her shoulder as he checks Taliesin’s pulse points. “He’s fine. He’s breathing, but his heart rate is pretty high right now. Adrenaline. This happens with heavy players sometimes... and your boy... shit.”  
  
“I know, I know...” she pants, swatting aside Bear’s hand to roll Taliesin’s head toward her, lightly stroking his cheek. She’s good under pressure, Matt panics but she can usually keep her mind clear—right now it’s racing, terrified. “Come on, baby. I’m here... just open your eyes.”  
  
“Give him a minute, Mar. Mouse, water? Blanket?” Bear looks in time to see Mouse scurrying for the items. “Just a little bit of shock. He’s been through some trauma and just probably had one hell of an orgasm if the mess is any indication.”  
  
“He should have stopped when you broke skin,” she growls between gritted teeth, running her thumb around Taliesin’s eye—collecting the wetness. “He’s such a fucking asshole.”  
  
“Marisha.” Bear’s voice rumbles and he grabs her by the bicep, tugging hard enough to get her attention. “He’s fine. He’s a big boy. He had opportunities, he wanted to see how far he could go... and I think he found it.”  
  
She frowns deeper, and then looks down at the marks criss-crossing his back, ass, and thighs. Sitting on the bench Thursday is going to be  _really_  fun. Only a few deep red cuts show broken skin, not really bloody but angry and swollen as his skin has started trying to accommodate for the abuse. “He looks like shit.”  
  
“Happy shit.” Bear corrects with a small chuckle, nodding to the lingering audience to get the fuck out. He can see Taliesin’s breathing deepen, his shoulders rising with the high wearing off. “At least until he drops... which’ll probably be right about the time he’s back with us.”  
  
A worried sound escapes the back of Marisha’s throat and she threads her fingers through Taliesin’s hair as a thin red blanket is draped over his back to his shoulders and a cold bottled water is offered. After what seems like an eternity, Taliesin groans and turns his head toward her, eyes opening slowly. He sighs; “That... was... nice.”

“‘Nice’, you asshole.” Marisha lets out a relieved sob. “Oh, Taliesin, I thought we’d pushed you too far.” She keeps her fingers threaded through his hair as Mouse sticks a straw into the bottle of water and holds it for Taliesin to sip. Looking the length of his body is a trial in itself, taking in the magnitude of all the varying impacts against his skin, how they’ve left him bruised and bloody and broken.

Not so broken that he can’t hiss a little at Bear when Bear wipes at the few bloody streaks. “Ow.”

“If a lil’ alcohol wipe hurts you more than my beating, boy, maybe I should put you right back on that horse.”

Taliesin laughs tiredly. “Rain check.” Marisha strokes his hair back from his forehead and feels how sweaty it is. His eyes are mostly closed. He looks every bit as blissed out as if Matt had just given him some really amazing head, but it’s all down to pain and Charlotte’s interestingly timed comment. The drying splash of seed on the sawhorse is testament to the fact that it was a genuinely good experience for him.

She’s still not sure she can believe it.

Mouse gives Taliesin another couple of swallows of water before handing the bottle off to Marisha. “Drink,” she says. “You need it as much as he does. It’ll help your brain cool down.”

Marisha realizes that yes, she is running pretty hot, and accepts the bottle. “Thanks.”

“He’s going to need physical aftercare, but don’t forget you both need emotional and mental aftercare.” Mouse squeezes Marisha’s shoulder. “You can stay here as long as you need, if you want support, or...”

“Wanna gome,” Taliesin murmurs into the soft leather top of the bench. “See Matt.”

“I guess we’re going, then,” Marisha says a little uncertainly.

“Don’t you dare rush out of here,” Bear growls, wiping one last nasty red streak across Taliesin’s shoulders. “No way I’m letting you go unless I’m sure you’re ready.”

Taliesin can only vaguely hear all of this. His back and ass and thighs feel comprehensively sore, but he’s pretty sure he can get up. Up is totally doable. Up leads to Matt, and snuggles, and home. Yeah, he can manage up.

The floor is surprisingly wobbly. Taliesin sways side to side. And his entire back is on fire.

“Hold up there, wildcat.” A thick, solid arm guides him back down to lie on his belly. “Not yet.”

“Up. Home.”

“In a minute.” The blanket is tucked back over him in a no-nonsense way. It’s holding him down. Taliesin bats at it behind his back.

“Per—”

“You’re not safewording out of your blanket. Mar, give him some more water.”

Taliesin drinks some more, and the world slowly solidifies around him, as if he’s coming out of an anaesthetic. He sure as shit doesn’t feel numb or distant; as the lovely haze blows away, the pain makes itself known.

It takes a few deep breaths to even begin collecting his thoughts, much less expressing them coherently behind the desperate desire to lay down somewhere soft and be cuddled. “Please?” He looks back to Marisha with a soppy, doe-eyed innocence.  
  
“Clothes first.” Her eyes dart to the semi-neat pile they’d ended up in, kicked off to the side once the scene had really started to get going. “Which is probably going to be a problem.”  
  
The pants, he reasons, are definitely not going to happen. The thought of denim on his raw flesh definitely doesn’t appeal, and he realizes really shows just how much of a novice he is. Mouse fetches the discarded elements before he can ask for them, presenting him first with the wadded boxer shorts. Yes, those would be... mostly fine. At least long enough to make it home.  
  
Marisha bolsters him across her shoulders, letting him wobble as he manages to at least cover himself and pretend dignity hasn’t been thrown completely out the window. “Okay, lay down... I’ll get your shoes on.”  
  
“I’ve got it, Miss.” Mouse answers quickly, receiving a pat on the head from Bear’s rough paw. The big man himself looks back to Marisha and asks; “Bring the car ‘round back. He can make do in his shorts and take the blanket.”  
  
They’d talked before about the strange dichotomy of Taliesin’s shamelessness and yet also body dysphoric shyness. That said, Marisha’s pretty sure he’s too far gone to care just who sees him in downtown LA in his boxers. Still she nods and presses a kiss on Taliesin’s cheek as Mouse gingerly slides socks over his feet—watching his face twitch and grin, flashing between amusement and pain as he flexes his back muscles.  
  
“This... really fucking hurts.” Taliesin mutters once he hears the slam of a door far enough away to likely mean Marisha’s out of earshot. “I feel like I’ve been skinned.”  
  
“It’ll pass.” Bear leans his hip against the bench, once more picking up the tub of disposable alcohol pads and fishing out the next to worry over the broken skin. “Keep the broken areas clean, antibiotic ointment when you get home. You can use pain reliever cream once she can touch it without feeling like you’re going to pass out again.” It’s routine, the same thing he’s said many times before to heavy players that either went too far or just far enough—Taliesin apparently being in the latter camp. Taliesin swears unabashedly as he wipes the small fissures again, but he continues. “I hope you don’t have any plans for a day or two.”  
  
“I figured I’d have to clear schedule.” He whines, letting out a relieved sigh when the blanket is once more draped over his shoulders and the big man hefts him up onto his shoulder. “This is pretty insane, you realize this, right? I mean... I’m easily two hundred pounds...”  
  
“Feels like about a buck-eighty.” Bear grunts, easily taking slow and steady steps with him. “But I’m not about to let you walk through the parlor looking like you’ve been humiliated and abused.”  
  
Taliesin moans audibly, the mental image of the past hour still not quite real to him—and altogether a pleasant thought despite the drawbacks. “But that was the best part...”  
  
Bear’s wide paw smacks his ass through the blanket, eliciting a choked cry that’s followed with a humbled laugh. “You are easily... one of the biggest brats I’ve ever met.”  
  
“Cat...” Taliesin mutters, wriggling just to feel the brush of cloth tease against his sore flesh.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Bear passes through the parlor and notes that it’s empty; everyone’s cleared out for one reason or another, and if they were watching that display he’s pretty sure he knows the main reason. He loves being that inspiration to people. “By the way, remember our little bet?”  
  
Taliesin makes a confused noise and then says, “Oh! Oh, yes.”  
  
“You nearly made it.” Bear pats his ass as they go down the back hallway. “I had you pegged for half an hour on the cross. You made it thirty-seven minutes.”  
  
“Could’ve done more if my knees didn’t die,” Taliesin gripes.  
  
“I’ll invert you next time, then you just need to worry about your ankles. And your brain.”  
  
The sound Taliesin makes next expresses definite interest. Bear grins and files it away for future reference. He knows when someone will want to play more than once, and this wildcat of a man that Marisha has somehow tamed is definitely one of those players.  
  
By the time they get out back, Marisha’s there with the car, standing beside it with a dubious look on her face.  
  
“Are you going to be able to sit down?” she asks Taliesin.  
  
“I can certainly try.” Taliesin wriggles and Bear sets him down.  
  
“Thanks for letting me beat your ass,” he says with amused sincerity, and then gives Taliesin a whiskery kiss that feels exactly the way Taliesin imagines getting licked by Trinket would. “Come back any time.”  
  
“Yellow,” Taliesin says, meaning  _give me a chance to recover first_ , and he attempts to ease into the passenger seat of the car. It does not go well; he stands back up, shaking his head. “No. Gotta lie down.”  
  
“He can lie on the back seat; your place isn’t that far out, right?” Bear opens the back door, ushering Taliesin in, tucking the blanket over him. “There we are.”  
  
“Thanks.” Taliesin pillows his head on his arms and hopes like hell that Marisha doesn’t have to make any sudden stops.  
  
“What’s on for you for the rest of the night?” Marisha asks Bear.  
  
Bear goes solemn. “I gotta tell Charlotte off for laughing... sure, it worked for your boy, but if she’s going to watch she needs to keep control. I have clients who’d want to take it out on  _her_  ass.”  
  
“Is that what you’re going to do?”  
  
“That’s between me and her. I’ll probably just make her wear a gag for the rest of the night.”  
  
“But she’s on reception.”  
  
“That’s the fun part.”  
  
Marisha laughs and hugs Bear, whose arms fold closely around her. “Thanks, Bear. This was great.”  
  
“Go on home. Take care of your boy.” Bear shoos her into the car. Marisha goes willingly, pausing only to text Matt before starting the engine.  
  
_We’re coming home._

The small car’s backseat is a comforting cradle, the blanket wrapped around his inflamed skin is thankfully smooth microfiber but rasps no less on the throbbing wounds. It’s probably the best he’s felt in a very long time; Taliesin knows he’s coming down—he’s seen Matt come down hard and knows he’ll crash as soon as he makes it to the sanctuary of their bed, but for now it’s easy to simply let the dull roar of the car’s engine and the little rock of each tap of the brakes lull him into a cozy daze.  
  
Marisha watches him in the rear view mirror—it’s not as safe as proper usage, but at this point it beats turning her head to check in on him every few minutes. He’s quiet, which isn’t  _that_  rare, usually after something intense he checks out a little bit to think on it, but the far-away look in his eyes tells her that he’s not even there yet, it’s not introspection he’s just spaced out. “You did amazing.” She says above the gentle blow of the air-conditioning. “Everyone was really impressed. I was impressed.”  
  
Taliesin tries to speak, but doesn’t manage much more than a soft; “Yeah...” He’s exhausted, the sort of nice exhaustion that only comes with pushing himself to one limit or another.  
  
“I can’t believe you came like that... without even being touched. I didn’t even think that was possible.” He groans, a soft noise of pleasure, and closes his eyes. It’s happened before—only once, and he was alone just seeing if he could out of masturbatory boredom. This... this was something else entirely. Marisha continues, more to fill the time than anything since it’s pretty clear Taliesin’s brain is mostly disconnected; “Matt’s gonna flip when he sees your marks... it’s pretty intense.”  
  
The thought is somewhat worrying, as nurturing as Marisha is... well, Matt’s almost doubly so. He sighs and tilts his face back into the flesh of his forearms, forcing himself to focus on breathing deeply and keeping the potential anxiety at bay. Matt will understand, in his own fashion, and while he may fret about it he’ll get it. Just like Taliesin can’t fathom the joy of being confined and restrained for hours on end when a long session in the booth makes him anxious and jittery.  
  
“We’ll be home soon, kitten. Take care of those wounds, get some nice cuddling in.”

The porch light is on and Matt’s waiting at the front door for them, on his knees just inside the entryway. When he sees how slow Taliesin is at getting out of the car, though, he scrambles up and darts out to meet him.

“Don’t hug him,” Marisha says hastily. Matt pulls up short about a foot away—more than close enough to see how wrung-out Taliesin looks, and that his attire isn’t what it was when they left the house. He whines anxiously, and Taliesin gives him a small smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, voice muzzy.

“Bring his clothes in.” Marisha gestures to the pile of black on the passenger seat. Matt goes around to get it, now more than a little worried that Marisha’s not letting him see what’s under the blanket. He drapes Taliesin’s leash around his own neck for safekeeping and carries the clothing into the house, following the other two.

Marisha leads Taliesin straight to the shower. Taliesin mumbles an objection, something about bed, but as Matt sorts Taliesin’s clothes into what needs washing and what can go back in the closet (his long black coat, which Matt wishes he’d wear more often, ideally on its own) he can hear Marisha saying  _clean_  and  _blood_  and  _infection_.

The last two words make him drop everything and run.

“Is he bleeding? Let me see,” he demands, almost skidding on the tiles in his hurry.

“Calm down, Matthew,” Marisha says, pointing to the floor. Matt drops to his knees and almost immediately feels a little better. The fact that Taliesin’s not making any pain noises isn’t entirely reassuring, but for a second he thinks maybe it’s not as bad as he’s anticipating.

Then Taliesin lets the blanket slip from his shoulders, and Matt starts to his feet, because Taliesin’s back is a fucking  _rainbow_  of bruises and stripes and, yes, a couple of places where the skin has split.

“What did you do? What the fuck did you  _do_  to him?”

“ _Down_ , Matt!” Marisha snaps.

“It’s fine, puppy.  _Matt_. I’m fine.” Taliesin’s voice has firmed up a little in the face of Matt’s fear. “I promise.”

Matt seems convinced by that, until the shower’s running and Taliesin gingerly eases his boxers off. Then he hears a loud gasp followed by a sob, and Matt crawls to him, butting his head against Taliesin’s hand.

“Your perfect ass is all bruised.”

Taliesin steps heavily into the tub under Marisha’s keen supervision. “It’s not perfect... if anything it’s more perfect this way.”

“It’s a work of art,” Marisha says. Even though he’s not entirely back to reality, Taliesin can tell that she’s itching to get her secret camera out and document the patterns on his skin.

Matt strips fast and scrambles into the shower with Taliesin, but then stops as though he’s not sure if he can touch yet.

“Go gently,” Marisha says.

Matt lathers up a soft washcloth and begins with Taliesin’s front, eyes filled with worry. Taliesin kisses him, heedless of the spray getting in their faces, and Matt gains confidence, working up more raspberry-scented bubbles as he goes. Taliesin looks over at Marisha, but she’s perched on the edge of the vanity, evidently content to watch the two of them.

When he reaches Taliesin’s cock, Matt noses in close and inhales. “You came,” he says. “I didn’t think that was part of it.”

Taliesin laughs. “I wasn’t expecting it to be.”

“I think that can be part of puppy’s bedtime story,” Marisha says.

When Matt starts on Taliesin’s back, tentatively stroking the cloth over his shoulders, Taliesin hisses but says nothing. Marisha wonders if he’s really that far gone still, or if he’s trying to be stoic for Matt’s sake. Certainly as Matt works his way down, Taliesin doesn’t react much aside from leaning against the wall when he can, face turned up to the water, rinsing off the last of his makeup and sweat and tears.

Matt goes to his knees behind Taliesin when he gets to Taliesin’s ass. After a preliminary round with the washcloth, first soaping and then rinsing, he begins pressing small kisses to each mark. Tiny kisses for the smaller spots from the studded paddle; longer drags of his lips for the stripes from strap and whip and cane. Taliesin shivers and flinches, but Matt’s not dissuaded. Marisha gets down from the vanity and sits at the far end of the tub with her feet in it to get a clearer view. The water in the bottom of the tub laps around her toes and reminds her just how much she hates really high heels.

But then Matt starts licking, and she forgets about all that.

“Oh, fuck,” Taliesin groans as Matt’s tongue drags across his wet skin. It hurts and it feels good and why not? That’s been the theme of the night.

Matt very carefully finds a place he can put his hands so that his thumbs don’t dig in anywhere particularly raw—thank god there are only a couple of really deep cuts—and spreads Taliesin gently, delicately open, licking his cleft with strong, sure strokes. Taliesin cries out and pushes back against him; Matt responds by licking right into him, tongue dancing over the sensitive skin before pushing right in.

“Good boy... kiss him all better,” Marisha says. She can see Taliesin’s legs shaking and thinks that after how hard he exploded earlier he’s probably got nothing left in him, but there’s no sense in cutting Matt’s fun short before it’s necessary.

It’s not so much that Matt’s near-miraculous tongue takes the pain away... so much as reminds him why it doesn’t matter. He can handle the pain, in a way it feels right to have that sting of pulling raw flesh as Matt presses deep and moans. “Jesus... Matthew...” His knees shake and he leans a little harder on his arms, forcing himself to stay upright.  
  
“I think...” Marisha murmurs, combing her fingers through Matt’s damp hair; “we should take him to bed before you tend his wounds.”  
  
Matt whimpers audibly, and offers one last lingering slurp of his tongue up Taliesin’s cleft before allowing himself to pull away. He steps out first, quickly shucking the water off his body with a towel before grabbing the middle of three and accepting Taliesin’s uneasy step into it. It’s easy to wrap him up from the front—gently kissing wet cheeks as Marisha gingerly dabs the last towel against his back side, getting him just dry enough for bed.  
  
Bed, despite it ending the happy fun tongue time, is definitely a good idea. Taliesin collapses on his belly on one side of the bed and only briefly attempts to scoot toward the middle where he meets Matt’s chest against his arm. “This... is the sucky part.” He groans, looking up at him with a weak smile.  
  
Matt can’t stop staring at him, tracing the long stripes on his shoulders and across his ass—seeing the even darker red where they cross bright red paddle marks. “It’s...” he sighs, trying to find the right words that won’t sound like he disapproves. He wants to approve. He wants to not have the knot of worry in his gut, but it’s there no less. “It’s scary.”  
  
“It’s worth it.” Taliesin reaffirms with a soft groan as Matt’s fingers trace the red edges of the canvass that his ass had become. “Promise.”  
  
Matt nods and looks up to see Marisha returning with a tube of ointment and a bottle of ibuprofen. It gives a whole new meaning to aftercare. “Love you,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss Taliesin on one shoulder as he shifts his weight lower—finding the comfortable spot between his thick thighs. Part of him says it’s just for a better look, but he knows he’s far more interested in kissing the pain away, being part of the experience.

At first Taliesin moans in pain as Matt traces the weals with his tongue, but before long he’s just moaning, fisting up the sheets and wishing he could honor Matt’s devoted tongue work with another orgasm. But he’s too wrung out, his cock unresponsive to even Matt’s most dedicated deep licks. It still feels incredible, though, and Marisha is the one to stop it in the end.

“Get off of him, Matt... he needs this.” She taps his cheek with the ointment, and Matt lifts away reluctantly, going unbidden to brush his teeth before putting his mouth anywhere else.

“Felt nice,” Taliesin mumbles into the pillows, and then, “Ow!” as Marisha daubs a generous amount of ointment onto one of the bigger welts. For a moment the bed seems to spin and he’s sure he’ll pass out again, but the sensation fades and does not recur as Marisha treats his other wounds.

Matt returns with a bottle of water, helping Taliesin wash down two of the ibuprofen. “I have no idea how you can be so happy about this,” he says.

“Don’t kinkshame me.”

“I’m not, I’m trying to understand.” Matt sounds wounded.

“I’m joking.” Taliesin reaches out and Matt takes hand, their fingers intertwining. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just know that it works.”

“He was so good,” Marisha says. “Do you want to hear about it?”

Matt hesitates—he’s not sure he  _does_  want to hear about the ordeal that must surely have happened to cause such pain. But he’s too curious about this to not ask. “Yes, please.”

Marisha settles on Taliesin’s other side, rubbing small circles on the unmarked stretch of skin across his lower back. “Well, we started out with him meeting one of the staff who happens to be a Critter...”

Matt listens as the story unfolds. Taliesin chimes in occasionally, but for the most part Marisha’s the storyteller. She makes it sound—not particularly less painful, but definitely like more than just a beating. When she mentions the open door, the quiet audience, Matt squeezes Taliesin’s hand a little harder.

“Were you okay with them watching?”

“And touching... Marisha gave permission for a couple of them to come up and see how the bruises were developing.” Taliesin sounds dreamy. “I was on display... I liked it.”

“More than liked it,” Marisha corrects.

“Meaning what?” Matt asks.

“I’ll get to that.”

She gets to the part about Taliesin coming down from the cross and being bent over the horse, and Matt lets out a low moan.

“I’d like to see that.”

“You’d like to be on it yourself, minus the beating,” Marisha guesses, and Matt blushes and nods.

“Skirt around his waist, panties around his ankles,” Taliesin says; Matt makes a very interesting noise and Marisha can see him very unsubtly digging his cage against the mattress. “Fucking machine nailing his ass for all to see.”

Taliesin has such lovely ideas. But Marisha’s not done with this story yet. “He didn’t come from being beaten...not exactly.” She trails a fingertip over one of the fine cane marks. “Bear caned him until he broke.”

“Go on,” Matt says.

“I used my safeword... I had to use the  _whole thing_.” Taliesin sounds proud of himself. “Then Charlotte laughed... and that did it.”

Matt can’t help but blush, the knot of arousal pushing even harder despite the sting of worry when he looks over Taliesin’s back. Breaking Taliesin... he’d always thought it was nearly impossible, and the marks on confirm that assumption. “The whole thing?” He smirks, lifting Taliesin’s fingers and kissing his knuckles.  
  
“It was so embarrassing...” Taliesin sighs, and then chuckles under his breath; “in a good way, though.”  
  
“Sweet, sweet humiliation.” Marisha rolls her eyes, shaking her head with an echoed sigh. “I think it helped that it was someone who knows your name... knows the show.”  
  
“It didn’t just help, it was the driving force. Knowing that now she’s going to see  _that_  every time she watches.” Taliesin turns his head into the pillows and lets out a low groan.  
  
Somewhere between that thought and Taliesin’s groan, Matt finds himself even more anxious—the press of pleasure thickening his cock underneath the tight metal cage. He fights it, but when he catches Marisha looking at him it’s clear he’s not fighting it very well.  
  
“Come here, naughty boy...” Marisha purrs, curling her finger to encourage Matt between her thighs as she presses up to lean her back into the pillows piled against the headboard. Taliesin stirs, and she reaches out to steady him at the shoulder; “You relax, darling... you’ve done your job winding me up, I think puppy should get the finisher.”  
  
“I love it when you talk nerdy...” Matt sighs tenderly, climbing into her lap—sliding down on his belly to kiss her inner thighs. “Or dirty... or dirty and nerdy...”  
  
“Shhh...” she reaches out with her free hand, stroking her slim fingers through his hair before grabbing close to his scalp and guiding him toward her bare sex. “Mouth belongs on pussy right now, not talking.”  
  
Taliesin whimpers, a soft mewling sound that’s almost lost under Matt’s enthusiastic acceptance of his mission. “I wanna play...”

“Haven’t you played enough for one night?” Marisha asks in a remarkably steady voice for someone who’s having their clit enthusiastically licked.  
  
“Not with Matt.” Taliesin reaches out to toy with Matt’s hair; Matt lets out a happy whine and tilts his head a little to encourage the touch without missing a beat with his tongue. “There’s a big difference.”  
  
“I know... I need to not talk right now.” Marisha’s eyes close and her mouth opens to let out first soft sighs, then louder moans as Matt finishes what Taliesin started just by getting his ass beaten. Taliesin can see the gleam of Marisha’s juices on Matt’s cheek when he moves his head, more so when Matt hooks an arm under one of her thighs to physically lift her up so he can press his tongue deeper into her. He’d be annoyed that she’s ignoring him in favor of Matt right now except that it’s only fair considering she’s been focused on him all night and her own release is long overdue.  
  
Her nails claw into the back of Taliesin’s hand, both of them cupping the back of Matt’s head, and it’s not enough but it’s something, something to make him feel a part of what Matt’s doing to Marisha.  
  
Marisha doesn’t need a whole lot of physical encouragement to come, but the sensations that Matt imparts with his tongue and lips are exquisitely wonderful, building her up and then tipping her over without a hitch.

Not only is it honestly fair... it’s very nice to simply exist in their space and their moment and watch. Physically, even if his cock wanted to perform and he didn’t feel like he’d spent a considerable amount of time being severely beaten, he thinks he might not want to miss this sort of intimacy. He’s not separated from them, he thinks Marisha’s nails easy up and allow him to reward Matt with strong strokes through his hair, he’s part of it.  
  
Her face is flushed, lips parted for a long moment as she rides out the waves of delight—well aware that Matt won’t stop until he’s told to or sheer exhaustion takes its toll. “One more...” she huffs, eyes half-lidded when she looks back to Taliesin with a warm, loving smile. Taliesin inches closer, leaning into her as she closes the distance between them and kisses him. It’s oddly tender, considering the position they’d been in not long ago, his slow and lingering kiss nowhere near the eagerness of Matt’s tongue caressing her as his long, thick fingers slide effortlessly in her wetness—seeking out that pressure point that makes her shudder and moan into Taliesin’s parted lips as Matt curls his fingers to stroke deliberately over it.  
  
The steel digs hard against his cock; almost comforting in its familiarity—he’s started automatically associating arousal with that unique tender pain and it almost feels strange anymore to not be forced to wait. His free hand grips tighter around her thigh as he digs the cage against the bedspread. He’s been keyed up since they left, seeing them both all dressed up... knowing they’d be in a much different state when they got home. Knowing that Taliesin would be calm again, that his peace will have been made—and to a degree, hers too because as much as she loves pushing Taliesin’s buttons she doesn’t understand the heavy hurting either.  
  
Moaning in the back of his throat, Matt tastes her with broad sweeps of his tongue, collecting the warm fluids before neatly suckling her swollen clit between his lips to draw hard at the tender little bud.

“Oh, fuck, yes, fuck...” Marisha loses her words as Taliesin’s hand slips down from stroking Matt’s hair to tuck in under his chin, two of his fingers pushing into Marisha alongside Matt’s. Matt’s fingers slip free and he uses that hand to keep Marisha’s labia spread so that he can stay focused on her clit while Taliesin’s fingers work inside her. She has to concede, she  _did_  ask for one more... but she wasn’t expecting both of them to take her up on that request. Not that she can do anything about it, too caught up in sensation to tell them off for teaming up on her. And besides, Taliesin’s mouth is still right there, so tenderly kissable, such an easy way to draw him deeper into the shared experience.

“He wants you so much,” Taliesin whispers in her ear when the kiss breaks. “I can tell from the way he’s humping the mattress.”

“Classy language,” Matt says, lifting his head.

“Are you denying it?”

“No.” Matt unashamedly rolls his hips down against the bed.

“Do you want me to uncage him?” Marisha asks, amusement beginning to override the overwhelming arousal they’ve been inexorably building and rebuilding in her.

“Yes.” Taliesin kisses her earlobe, flicking his tongue over it as Matt flicks his tongue over her clit. “I want to watch you two together; it’s my turn to watch.”

Matt looks up and gives Taliesin a soft, loving smile. “I would be more than okay with that, if Marisha is.”

By way of answer, Marisha beckons Matt up the bed, already pulling the necklace off over her head. Matt presents himself to be uncaged, and Taliesin’s hand is on him as soon as he is, palm stroking gently over his quickly hardening cock. Marisha’s already comfortably settled against the pillows, so all that’s left for Matt to do is let Taliesin bring him to full hardness—which does not take long at all—and then sink into Marisha’s waiting heat.

All three of them make a sound when he’s fully sheathed within her. Matt’s is a low groan of pleasure, not just physical pleasure but the joy of being allowed to be inside Marisha. Marisha’s long sigh is one of fulfilment as she hooks one slim leg around Matt’s legs. And Taliesin lets out a half-laugh, half-moan just at the sheer delight of seeing his lovers together.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs to them both.

Matt leans over to kiss him. “You too,” he replies. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Move, Matthew,” Marisha says, but despite the impatient words she’s smiling, far from unhappy at the chance to watch her boys exchange such loving words and kisses.

Wriggling onto his side is a tender act that involves stretching the skin across his back painfully until he finds a mostly comfortable position to better see them both. The way Marisha clings to him says just as much as the love written in her eyes as Matt’s hips slowly work against her in short, hard thrusts.  
  
Matt leans into her, bracing his arms against the pillows comfortably when he leans in to kiss her sweet mouth as it hangs open with a soft moan. He’s stopped counting now, the days between orgasms don’t matter... not when they’re so strong when he’s allowed the pleasure. She may have the control over him, but he’s learned so much about controlling himself and holding back that desire until he can’t take it any more. “Feels good...” he groans, letting the shudder pass through him. “So fucking good.”  
  
“Uh huh...” Marisha breathes, drawing in deep breaths between soft moans with each smack of his pelvis against her. She hadn’t really thought much about how wound up she’d gotten watching Taliesin so helpless... the way his own pleasure seemed to wash over her and leave a tense knot of  _wanting_  to linger. Feeling the familiarity of Matt’s cock inside her, his body against her with the softness of Taliesin’s chest and belly pressed up against her arm as he whispers in her ear; it’s almost too much to hold herself back.  
  
“He’s such a good boy,” Taliesin coos, unsure if in his own haze Matt will even hear him. “Even when he’s desperate to empty himself, all he wants is your pleasure.”

Matt hears Taliesin’s soft words and feels a thrill of pleasure wash through him at the praise. He kisses Marisha again, then turns his head to find Taliesin’s mouth with his own, giving all he can of himself to them both. The sweet smooth feel of being inside Marisha is pushing him steadily toward the edge, but Taliesin’s right: he’s not going to let go until he’s well and truly given Marisha all she wants.

Tonight, it seems, she’s been greatly sated by his work with his mouth. Her body still rises to meet his every thrust, but it’s slower, lazier, gentler than usual. Her eyes are hazy with pleasure and, though she’s making sounds every time he moves in a way that she particularly likes, they’re quiet little needy noises rather than her typical loud moans.

When she does come her eyes close and her mouth opens in a long sigh. Her nails dig into Matt’s back, and her thighs tighten around him, and he can feel the slow pulse of her orgasm around his cock. He inhales slowly, holding back, holding back.

“Let him come, Marisha, I want to see his face,” Taliesin says, and Marisha tenses her inner muscles around him. Matt has to assume that his face does whatever Taliesin was hoping, because he certainly doesn’t have time to do anything like stick out his tongue in his lover’s direction before Marisha pushes him inexorably over the edge.

Marisha feels Matt spill over within her and holds his tightly as he lowers his forehead to her shoulder and shudders hard with the force of his some-days-denied climax. Soft and slow is rarely their style these days, but she feels wonderfully sated.

“Most people don’t have the privilege of such a pretty O-face,” Taliesin remarks.

“Do you mean me, or him?” Marisha nuzzles against Taliesin’s cheek until he gets the hint and kisses her.

“Both of you.” Taliesin gets up on one elbow to lean over and kiss Matt’s cheek, as Matt is still face down in Marisha’s shoulder. Marisha nips his earlobe as he’s leaning over her, just because she can. When he pulls back he’s smiling. “Not everyone has the good fortune of being so photogenic.”

“If you’re trying to insult yourself  _yet again_ ,” Matt says mostly into Marisha’s shoulder, “you can stop right there, because the way you look when  _you’re_  coming makes me wish I could spend all day one day getting you off over and over just to see it as much as possible.”

“Bullshit,” Taliesin says, but secretly he’s quite pleased.

“Speaking of photogenic, Tal...” Marisha looks a little wary. “Can I take a picture of your back?”

Taliesin gives her a sleepy smile. “I knew that was coming.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

So Matt lets Marisha up and then helps Taliesin roll back onto his belly before messing with the lights to show off the marks to their best possible effect, while Marisha digs out their secret camera. Taliesin accepts Matt’s attentions with equanimity, taking the opportunity when Matt gets close enough to his head to run a fingertip through the mingled juices on Matt’s cock and take a taste.

It’s a calm, comfortable moment when Matt snuggles back down beside Taliesin—the playful smile on his face showing he’s more than willing and able to  _perform_  again should the request, but also content to stroke his fingers lovingly over Taliesin’s collar and up through his hair in an attempt to curl the frantic snarls of the day.  
  
“You looked so pretty when you left...” Matt murmurs against his ear, eyes watching the camera as Marisha finds exactly the right angle she’s looking for. “All gothed up... pity it got messed up.”  
  
“It was for a good cause.” Taliesin smiles weakly, pushing up to kiss him only to draw a frustrated growl from Marisha that puts him back down against the pillows. “Walking in a proud man and leaving... well, you saw the state I was in. And that was after a half-hour drive to calm back down.”  
  
“Still beautiful.” Matt whispers, catching the bemused smile that crosses Taliesin’s face before it’s replaced with a more neutral calm. “Just a different kind of beautiful,” his voice cracks, his wary tone only a little forced; “the kind that sort of makes me want to break out the gauze and bactine.”  
  
“Matt, honey... put your fingers down by that real long one for comparison.” Marisha instructs, lining up a shot to particularly get the long whip lashes across his upper back. They’re almost twice as long as Matt’s absurdly long fingers, crisscrossing elegantly. Her own small flogger stripes look predictably amateur by comparison.  
  
He’s cautious as he gently places his hand across a less-inflamed patch of skin, feeling the heat still radiating off of him. “How do you feel?” He asks softly; “Does it hurt?”

“Yes, it hurts,” Taliesin says without prevaricating. “But it’s a good hurt. Granted, I might not be saying that tomorrow morning, but right now it’s a good hurt.” The press of Matt’s hand on his warm skin is oddly soothing despite its proximity to one of the places that Marisha has had to lay the ointment on thickly. “I wish I could make it easier for you to understand.”

“I think I’m starting to get it... I mean, you don’t get the caging thing for me, so it’s like that. I don’t think I could ever explain that in a way you’d understand.”

“Speaking of caging,” Marisha says, apparently done with her photography, “you need to clean up and then put it back on.”

Taliesin watches as Matt obediently gets up and wipes himself clean—at this point they need to buy stock in wet wipes—and then settles on the bed, sitting back on his heels, knees spread, hands clasped behind his neck to offer his cock without so much as the minimal restriction that his usual hands on knees posture affords.

“Can he wait a little longer?” Taliesin asks.

“Why? Do you think you’re going to wake up in the middle of the night needing some cock to suck?” Marisha asks.

“You never know.” Taliesin sees Matt’s cock twitch at the prospect. “I’d like to feel all of both of you against me tonight.”

“I suppose,” Marisha says, setting the cage aside for the time being. Matt drops his position and snuggles against Taliesin’ side. Taliesin reaches down to stroke Matt’s cock with a few slow, heavy caresses, not with the aim of making him hard again, but just for the pleasure of feeling his lover’s length against his skin. Matt makes an agreeably happy noise. “Just wake me if you do decide on a little midnight cocksucking. I’d like to share the moment.”

“I promise,” Taliesin says.

“Do I get a say in this?” Matt asks.

Taliesin, despite having been beaten so badly, still manages to give him a deeply hungry look. “Are you trying to tell me you wouldn’t like being woken up like that?”

Matt shivers. “Now that you mention it...”

“I know in your fantasies you were the one sucking me in my sleep, but I’m sure you’ve thought about the roles being reversed at least once,” Taliesin goes on, and Matt lets out a low whimper.

“What’s this about fantasizing?” Marisha asks, intrigued.

“Nothing, darling...” Taliesin replies with a soft sigh somewhere between physical exhaustion and not wanting to dredge up thoughts so close to the moment of badness. “Matthew’s keen on the idea of waking me up with a little bit of his delightful mouth.”  
  
Marisha chuckles and rolls her eyes at him; “You get just a little too proper when you’re afterglowing, Tal.”  
  
“True.” Matt adds with a short nod; “On both counts.”  
  
A small, intrigued sound escapes Marisha’s throat, but she doesn’t comment. Taliesin relents; “All I’m saying is, don’t be surprised if I need a little bit of physical comfort once I come down a bit more. And that little bit may involve surprise cock sucking.”  
  
For a moment, Matt manages to maintain a serious face—that then abruptly melts into a soft laugh at the entirely-too-serious look on Taliesin’s face. “I wouldn’t refuse...” He pauses, looking back to Marisha before warily adding; “Assuming you’re fine with that, of course.”  
  
She rolls her eyes and leans heavily into Matt’s shoulder. “As long as I get to enjoy it...  _and_  Mister Pain here doesn’t hurt himself.”

“I’m actually a little surprised that you’re not the one asking to be  _given_  a little more physical comfort,” Marisha adds to Taliesin, who just shrugs and then flinches. “See, you can barely move.”

“Oh, but I’ve been given so much tonight... I want to give a little back.” Taliesin doesn’t add that the bruises he’s received tonight are only the visible ones. The deeper down ones, the ones that the visible ones are, in his mind, at least partly atonement for the invisible ones, still require a good deal of restitution. “And it’s awfully lovely to feel the way he reacts... the way he goes from soft to hard.”

Matt groans. “Damn, it, Taliesin...”

“Go to sleep, Matthew.”

*

Taliesin’s back bothers him enough that he can only drift in and out of a fitful light sleep. Marisha is out like a light, soft snores escaping her partially open mouth, curled on her side, facing Taliesin. Matt is also asleep, splayed out on his back like a gangly starfish.

The clock by the bed reads 2:23 when he decides  _fuck it_  and inches his way down the bed. In what is a reversal of Matt’s so simply described fantasy, he’s half hard under the sheet. Taliesin can’t get as comfortable as he’d like, but he can certainly get down to where he can use his mouth on Matt.

But not just yet. His palm ghosts over his lover’s cock, the barely there rub of skin on skin eliciting a soft sound from Matt in his sleep. Taliesin does it a couple more times before the need to have Matt in his mouth overcomes him and he presses in close, inhaling the scent of Matt’s skin before taking just the head of Matt’s cock into his mouth. He loves feeling Matt get harder in his mouth the same way he loves feeling Marisha go from being just a little wet to soaked—or squirting, if he’s lucky.

Matt murmurs again in his sleep. Taliesin eases him into his mouth, trying to see how long he can play before Matt wakes up. He wonders if he could make Matt come in his sleep, lick him clean, and then try to convince him in the morning that it was all a dream. The thought is surprisingly appealing, even though he generally prefers Matt wide awake and very much aware of his orgasms.

With this in mind, though, Taliesin keeps playing softly, using his lips and tongue for lighter touches and licks, rather than stronger sucking. Matt’s hips twitch toward him more than once, and he’s all the way hard, a little pre-come beading on the head of his cock. Taliesin lets out a small sound of his own at the taste of it. He could get drunk on the taste of the two of them every night for the rest of his life and it would never be too much.

The groan is louder this time, deep from Matt’s chest. He barely stirs, and for a second Taliesin freezes—waiting for the telltale sign that he’s pushed too far and roused him. Then, Matt’s breathing softens to dozing, slow cadence that tells him he’s still mostly sleeping.  
  
Another dart of Taliesin’s tongue laps over the, collecting more of that warm musk that still tastes vaguely of Marisha’s sex despite his quick clean-up earlier... though, it’s entirely possible that part is all in his mind, somehow making it just a little more dirty. He shifts his weight slightly, leaning closer as he envelopes Matt’s familiar cock, feeling the hard length slowly fill down his tongue and nestle against the back of his throat as he inhales the pure scent of sex clinging to the stubbled skin at the base of Matt’s cock. It’s all he can do to simply let his mouth work gently over him, not to swallow or encourage more of those sleep-moans.  
  
As if sensing the moment, Marisha stirs and rolls onto her side, one hand finding Matt’s chest and resting in the dead center before she lets out a soft snore.  
  
Taliesin draws a deep breath through his nose, daring to bob his head only slightly—feeling the eager pulse of Matt’s cock down his tongue and then deeper again. It’s a dangerous line, and if the small hitch in Matt’s breath is any indication he won’t last long... at least not still technically asleep. It’s almost worth it to call off the game entirely and let him wake on that perilous edge of orgasm, if nothing than for the satisfaction of knowing that it feels fantastic and powerful to have that effect on someone.

Matt feels a warm pressure slowly growing, bringing him up out of sleep but without an immediate awareness of what’s happening. Then his subconscious mind recognizes the sensation and prods his conscious mind, pointing out that he might want to wake up to properly enjoy what’s happening to him.  
  
Taliesin senses the change from sleeping to wakefulness as soon as Matt does process what’s going on. He treats Matt to a soft swallow and hears another throaty groan. It’s so worth the way his position pulls at all the sore spots on his back to hear that sound, that sound that means his lover is on the brink, thanks to him.  
  
“Fuck, Taliesin,” Matt whispers into the semi-dark. He’s not sure he expected Taliesin to actually go through with this. On any other night, sure, but not when he’s so battered and bruised. “You...” He wants to say  _you don’t have to_ , but his body is very much in favor of letting Taliesin finish him off.  
  
Taliesin bobs his head down, stroking the underside of Matt’s cock lovingly with his tongue, and Matt moans again, louder.  
  
“I knew you wouldn’t resist,” Marisha says, awake now, and she reaches down to stroke Taliesin’s hair, fingers twisting into it at the nape of his neck, holding him where he can’t move much and thus has to make use of his tongue and throat to get Matt off.  
  
Not that, at this point, there’s much difficulty in doing so.

When Matt topples over the edge, it’s with a soft but delightful yelp that’s almost better than his usual frantic cries and  _needy_  moans. Marisha’s grip loosens but Taliesin swallows again, barely lifting his eyes to look over Matt’s soft skin in the moonlight.  
  
He really is beautiful. They both are. And, he supposes, in his own way he is too.  
  
“Oh god...” Matt sighs, reaching to him, grasping one bicep tight as though he might pull him up. “Up... please? Up here.”  
  
Marisha’s eyes narrow for a second, unseen by her boys, but she lets Taliesin up—watching with some amusement as he groans with each shift of his sore muscles until he’s laid out on his belly as close to Matt as he can manage with one arm draped across Matt’s chest. She finds Taliesin’s fingers and takes his hand approvingly. “You probably shouldn’t have done that.”  
  
“Couldn’t sleep.” He answers, leaning in to accept greedy, hungry kisses from Matt as he squeezes Marisha’s hand.  
  
“How’s the pain?” She asks, knowing full and well he won’t admit just how bad it really feels.  
  
The kiss breaks with a moan in stereo, and then Matt’s hollow sleepy-sigh. “It’s not bad.” Taliesin says; “I’ll manage.”  
  
“And what about... here?” Matt murmurs, stroking the backs of his fingers across Taliesin’s forehead before raking his fingers through his mussed hair to rest his open palm at the back of Taliesin’s neck. “How are you doing?”  
  
It takes a moment to process, to genuinely let himself think about those pesky emotions that make everything a little more difficult but also a lot more brilliant. “I feel... small.” His throat makes a soft sound somewhere between a sigh and whine; “I don’t really know how to explain that.”

“Then don’t.” Matt kisses him again. “Unless it’s a bad thing.”  
  
“It’s not really a good or bad thing... it’s just how I feel right now.” It’s something that can’t be quantified, not even by counting the number of times he was hit or the number of days he won’t be able to sit down for.  
  
“Taliesin, if you’re having bad sub drop, we need to know,” Marisha says.  
  
“And if I am, I will.” Taliesin can actually feel sleep creeping up on him now in spite of the lingering pain. Evidently his midnight cock feast has left him sated. “But I’m fine, okay?”  
  
“I just want to be sure.” Marisha presses in as close as she can to both of them.  
  
“Bring me breakfast in bed tomorrow if you’re so worried,” Taliesin says with a yawn. “Coffee and waffles are proven to be a hundred per cent effective against sub drop.”  
  
Marisha and Matt both laugh. Matt’s soon asleep again, face nuzzled against Taliesin’s neck. Marisha manages to keep her own eyes open until Taliesin’s breathing evens into the slow cadence of sleep and then follows them both down.


End file.
